


Feels Like Love

by GoldenTruth813



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: 8th year, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, HP: EWE, Healing, M/M, Secret Admirer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-21 22:38:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12467508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenTruth813/pseuds/GoldenTruth813
Summary: Draco returns to Hogwarts, determined not to want anything.  But Potter changes that.  Potter changes everything.





	Feels Like Love

 

Draco Malfoy had learned fairly recently not to get his hopes up, that he could no longer expect things to be a certain way just because he wanted them to be.  In many regards he’d spent his entire life not wanting for anything, which meant that when he had wanted something that he couldn’t have he didn’t usually take it very well.  

 

 

 

 

Like Potter.  
  
Draco shakes his head, determined not to go there, at least not yet.  He slides the door to his compartment open slowly, before plopping down gracelessly onto the tattered seat.  There’s no one to see him after all so decorum be damned.  People had started avoiding him the second he’d stepped on to Platform 9 ¾.  His mother had warned him of course, had practically begged him not go, but he felt like he owed it if not to himself than to Snape or Dumbledore to prove he could be better.     
  
He knows most of this second chance is due to his mother, and to Potter of course.  He owes them both a great deal for speaking on his behalf before the Wizengamot.  Yet he knows that regardless of how he got it,  he is the only one who can make it count.  No one else will be able to help him make amends for the sins of his past.  He's not even sure he can.  All he knows for sure is that he wants to try, and that has to count for something.  
  
He rests his chin on his hand and stares out the window wondering what it will feel like to go back to the place he tried so hard to destroy.  He has failed so many times, first at doing the right thing and then he'd even gone and failed at doing the wrong thing.  He knows there will be no more chances after this one though.  He cannot fail.  

He feels a sense of bitterness when he thinks of it now, of how much he’d wanted to prove everyone wrong, and now of just how much he wishes to prove the onces he believed he could be redeemed  _right_ ; to prove he deserves the second chance he’s somehow been given. 

Sometimes it feels as if other people's sacrifices weigh him down more than they lift him up.

  
***~*~*~***

  
  
  
Draco had spent the entire summer after the end of the war writing sickeningly long apology letters to everyone that he had ever wronged.  _Everyone_.  It had been a long summer, with a lot of writing.    
  
The mind healer his mother had insisted he see kept telling him it was part of a healing process.  Draco thought it was all a giant load of rubbish if he’d ever heard one, but his mother had touched his hand and whispered “Please, Darling” in a way that made him feel unable to say no.  Besides he'd had a long six months of probationary house arrest and nothing else to do so he'd figured he had nothing left to lose.  
  
The letters had started off small, just a short note of apology for a rude word uttered without a second thought.  It had taken weeks to work his way up his embarrassingly long list, and he'd made damn sure Potter and his friends were very last.  Most of the time he got no response back to the letters he sent and was left to wonder if the recipient had read it but chose to ignore him completely anyway or if they simply refused to read it.  At least twice he’d received a howler back letting him know in no uncertain terms he should be sorry he was still alive.  He never mentioned those to anyone, not his mother or the mind healer.  He didn't want to admit that he liked those ones because he felt like he deserved them.  
  
Granger had sent him a short note that had simply read   _“I forgive you, but I may never forget.”_ Which he truthfully felt might be even more than he deserved. 

Weasley’s response had been more what he was expecting - a pack of Weasley Wizard Wheezes exploding dung bombs spelled to explode as soon as he had opened the envelope.  He hadn’t been able to get the smell out of his hair for a week.    
  
When Potter’s return owl had come two weeks later it contained a single sheet of parchment tied up with a mangy looking scrap of ribbon.   As he unrolled it, his own wand came tumbling out, falling to the floor with a clatter.  With shaky hands Draco picked up the wand, an inexplicable sense of fear and gratefulness flooding his system as he read the untidy scrawl.  
  
_I forgive you.  Looks like we’re even now._  
  
_⁃ HP_  
  
Draco had snorted, crinkling the paper up into a ball and chucking it angrily at the wall.  Of course Potter could forgive him so easily.   Perfect Potter.   Potter who probably didn’t wake up in night sweats or need someone to hold his hand and take him to a mind healer twice a week.   He knew Potter didn't deserve to suffer the way he was but it still made him feel angry.  Everything made him angry, which was better than not feeling at all.  Or so his mother kept telling him.  
  
With a sigh he slid to the floor, summoning the crinkled up ball of parchment off the floor and smoothing it out flat in front of him, tracing Potter’s initials with his fingers.     
  
He tried not to think too hard about why he wanted to save the paper, folding it up neatly and sliding it in his pocket.  
  
Afterwards he'd promised himself not to utter a word of it to anyone, that he wouldn't bring it up even under the threat of certain death, but of course he does anyway.  Draco has never been very good at keeping secrets.  His mind healer says it’s normal to be angry at people who can forgive you when you can’t forgive yourself.    
  
But despite knowing all of that, knowing his feelings are normal, none of it makes any of it any easier.  And when Draco steps through the gates of Hogwarts and sees Potter or the first time, he _feels_.  He feels angry and hopeful and too young and too old; he feels so much it is as if it might suffocate him.

Potter is standing in front of the steps of the castle looking so much better than the last time Draco had seen him.  His hair is shorter again, still wild and unmanageable, but cut closer to his head so the tips of his ears peak out, his scar visible just beneath the wisps of hair blowing across his forehead.  He looks healthy, laughing at something Weasley has said, bumping shoulders with him casually.  It makes something deep in his chest ache and he wants to close his eyes or look away but he cannot take his eyes off the other boy.  
  
Potter is smiling, brushing his hair out of his eyes before shoving his hands in his pockets, a feat he can only manage because he robes are only half on.  
  
Potter looks up and catches him staring.  Draco almost looks away then purposely forces himself not to, refusing to be embarrassed.  To his surprise Potter just tilts his head to the side curiously before whispering something that makes Weasley and Granger spin around to look at him.  He feels like he’s in a cage, the way they all stare, as if their whispers are chains holding him prisoner.  He won’t let them win, he thinks.  
  
It’s Granger who looks away first, rolling her eyes before tugging on the other two boy’s sleeves and dragging them into the castle.    
  
It is a long time before Draco follows. 

 

***~*~*~***

 

When they get their roommate assignments later that night after the sorting feast Draco actually contemplates packing his stuff back up and going home.  He cannot imagine being assigned a worse roommate than Ron fucking Weasley.   His only satisfaction in the entire thing is that Weasley looks just as horrified, if not more, than Draco feels.  In fact he lets out a string of curse words so volatile even McGonagal looks lost for words.   And they certainly aren’t the only ones unhappy about the new rooming situation.  Almost everyone seems more than a little put out at being assigned roommates from different houses  _‘In the spirit of unity and rebuilding the future’._    

Students begin to grumble and complain, and it isn't long before everyone is shouting over one another trying to air their grievances about why their dorm situation is the worst. Draco can’t stand the tension in the room, but in his attempts to try and find an escape he notices Potter seems to be handling it even worse than him.  Granger has her arm on his shoulder speaking in hurried whispers that Draco wishes he could hear.  Potter looks uncomfortable and frustrated.  

The last straw seems to come when a Ravenclaw whose name Draco can’t remember threatens to leave if he isn’t re-assigned at which point Draco can literally see the moment Potter snaps. His hands clench at his sides, his face scrunches up in disgust and if he didn’t know better he’d swear Potter’s magic was making the air around them actually crackle.

 "Quiet!" Potter’s voice isn’t just loud, it’s commanding, and every single 8th year stops talking to turn and look at him in a mix of shock and abashment.  

No one seems entirely sure what to say, and so no one says anything.  Once every single student is indeed staring at the other boy Draco can't help but notice that he looks almost embarrassed at his own outburst, and noticeably uncomfortable again. 

"Just….stop arguing.  All of you.  Please.  We’re lucky to be here, to be alive.  Not all of our friends and family were so lucky.”  

There is something powerful in his voice, even when he speaks softly, and Draco watches as the others turn guilty looks on each other and begin shuffling about the room.   In the end it is only Potter’s off handed suggestion of a scrimmage Quidditch game made up solely of the returning 8th years that finally gets everyone out of their funk.  Draco watches in amazement as those who were just arguing clap each other on the shoulders as they begin discussing who will take what position while they make their way out of the common room.  Draco is left standing there wondering how a boy who has never wanted power seems to have so much of it. 

“You gonna play, Malfoy?” Potter’s voice holds no trace of malice. He and Weasley and Granger are the only other ones left besides himself, almost as if Potter had waited to leave to make sure no one stayed behind.

“Why should I?” He asks, unable to stop himself from sounding defensive.  Even if Potter had said everyone he hadn’t thought he actually meant it. He'd learned a long time ago not to take people at face value.  

Potter just rolls his eyes, waving his arms around in the air.  "Because we can.  Because we’re all fucking still alive and we can!"

"Oh, well all right then.  No need to shout again, Potter.  I’m not deaf." 

"Oh, right, ok…well good.” Potter looks embarrassed.

“Yes…good.” Draco’s body feels tense, not with fear, but with anticipation, though for what he isn’t quite sure.

Potter stands there staring at him for far too long before re-joining his friends as they make their way down to the Pitch.  Draco follows a few minutes later, needing to collect his thoughts and compose himself, and is surprised to find that when he finally joins the game he doesn’t feel like as much of an outsider as he expected.

The sky is unusually clear for this time of year, but the air is crisp.  Draco relishes in the way the frigid wind whips across his face and through his hair as he does a few lazy laps, not even all that interested in the game.  He finds himself far more intrigued in Potter who seems to be doing the same as him, flying about the pitch not even paying attention to the game being played below them.  

The other boy has his arms spread out wide and his eyes shut, his face turned up to the sky as he soars around the pitch. The game goes on so long it is completely dark by the time it ends.  Draco doesn’t catch the snitch, not even close.  And yet he falls asleep with the memory of Potter’s smile as his fingers wrapped around the glittering gold ball, a feeling of victory settling somewhere deep inside his chest at the memory.  It should feel wrong to be so happy that someone has beaten him, and yet it feels right in a way nothing has for a very long time. 

 It isn’t until late that night when Draco is laying awake listening to the sound of Weasley snoring that he realizes Potter never had a roommate assigned.  He stays up most of the night wondering why. 

 

***~*~*~***

 

As the weeks go by Draco falls into a somewhat comfortable, if not slightly boring routine.  Most of the students no longer treat him with outward hostility but have moved on to complete indifference.  He supposes its better than sneers and hexes being thrown his way, but he finds it feels a lot more isolating than he could have anticipated.  Most of the students sort of act like he isn't even there, well except for Luna who takes to sitting with him at mealtimes despite not being an 8th year.  She always chatters on endlessly about things Draco doesn’t understand in the least.  But he finds he likes Luna’s honesty, even if she is a bit strange, and he is grateful for her conversation even if they do end up talking about things that sometimes make Draco question his own sanity.

His mind healer had told him before he left for Hogwarts to try to make friends, to make human connections to remind himself that life was worth living.  He’d scoffed at that, convinced it was another useless exercise.  But sometimes when Luna sits down beside him at mealtimes and smiles at him, asking for nothing more than his company, he thinks that maybe she had been right, that maybe it is okay to need people.

The problem is all this revelation does is open up a world of possibilities for things he wants and isn't sure he can have.

 

 ***~*~*~***  

 

“You know you should really talk to him.”

“Talk to who?” Draco doesn’t know why he’s asking because he knows exactly who Luna is talking about.

“Why Harry of course.   You’re always watching him.  He’s quite lonely too you know.  I’m sure he’d love to be your friend.”

Draco nearly spills his tea, setting his cup down a bit too roughly and turning to look at Luna.  He really hopes Potter can’t hear them from the other side of the table.

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t.”

“I don’t.  But if I did, which I don’t mind you, what exactly did you mean Potter’s lonely?  He’s got loads of friends.”

“Sometimes its more lonely to be _with_ people than without them.  Harry seems very sad, but everyone is so busy I don’t think most of them notice.  I tried to talk to him about it once, a few weeks ago, but he said he didn’t know what I was talking about either.  He sounded just like you actually.”  

That revelation makes Draco feel decidedly uncomfortable, and he wonders how he could spend so much time watching Potter and not have noticed something like that.

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about though.  Just for the record.”

“You know you’re really not nearly as good of a liar as you think you are.”

Draco sighs, dropping his head into his hands.  “I don't watch Potter.”

Luna just pats his arm again, making him feel a bit like a small child being placated.  “It’s alright, Draco, he watches you too.  I think you’re both a bit more alike than you realize.  It’s a shame you’re both too scared to admit it.”

Draco bristles at the accusation, mostly because she’s right.  “I am not scared.”

Luna’s hand reaches out again, resting on his arm gently.  “It’s alright.  We won’t talk about him if you’re not ready.”  

And just like that she changes the subject, moving on to discuss the bowtruckles she thinks she’s found living in a tree near Greenhouse five.  Draco however doesn’t listen to much of her story, instead turning his attention across the table to Potter, sandwiched between Granger and Weasley and poking his kidney pie like its done something awful to him.   

He can't help but wonder what other things he’s never noticed.

 

 

***~*~*~*~**

 

 

 

 

The problem is, after his conversation with Luna, Draco can't stop watching Potter.  Truth be told he was doing it before too, not that he would ever admit it of course.  But still, it seems different now, as if he no longer feels like he has to hide it.  He'd been so terrified of someone noticing before that he'd been watching without truly looking.  He supposes fear does that to a person, makes you see things not as they are but as you want them to be.

It's liberating in a way, to face his fears.  And terrifying too, but he finds he likes the thrill of watching Potter without caring who notices, not even Potter.

He finds himself noticing all sorts of things he can't believe he never noticed before.  Like how Potter seems to disappear at random times.  To be fair he had noticed before of course, but what he'd never realized was the way Weasley and Granger whisper more when he's gone.  The way they seem tense and worried.  

Or the way Potter barely eats breakfast some days and other days eats as if he hasn't laid eyes on food in weeks.   And regardless of Potter's appetite Weasley is always piling food on his plate when he thinks the other boy isn't looking.  He watches the way his friends take care of Potter, or try to at least.  Which is how he comes to find out, one day quite by accident, that Potter had gotten his own room because of his nightmares which he never talks about but his friends seem to know about in great detail anyway.

There are other things he notices too, like how much time Potter seems to spend alone.  He's never truly alone of course, there's always someone near him, usually talking a mile a minute.  But Potter often looks lost in thought as if he's a million miles away.  It makes him understand suddenly what Luna had meant about being alone in a crowd.  Draco wonders what Potter thinks about.

He notices little things too like how Potter takes his tea differently than he used to, stronger and less sweet, or how he seems to have developed an addiction to sugar quills.  Then there things he notices like how Potter sneaks into the common room early in the mornings dripping with sweat and looking lighter than usual, but how the heaviness seems to return to him as the day goes on.  

Mostly though he notices that despite all the ways that Potter has changed he's still amazingly like he used to be; he's bold and powerful and impulsive and strong, he's sarcastic and funny but sometimes doesn't talk much, and he's exceedingly kind.

Draco thinks it should make him sad, to see another human suffering.  To see Potter suffering.  Potter who gave everything for everyone else, and yet still seems to be shouldering all the worlds pain upon himself.  But instead, it makes him feel better in a weird twisted way.  He should feel guilty he thinks, but he's never been exceptionally nice like Potter so it doesn't change his feelings.  It's just that Potter's grief mirrors his own pain from the war so much it takes his breath away sometimes, and he just can't help but feel better about it.  Because if through all that pain and suffering Potter still hasn't lost himself or given up, then maybe there's hope for Draco.

Because Potter has always defied the odds, has beat everything and everyone, and so he has to be able to conquer his pain.  And if he can, then maybe Draco can too.

 

***~*~*~*~***

 

"Luna, why are we friends?" Draco tries to keep his voice light but he's pretty sure he has failed.

Luna turns her head to look at him, pushing the hair in her face behind her ear and looking at Draco as if she can see right through him.   He's reminded suddenly of the way she had looked at him from behind bars in the Manor, as if he was capable of something he didn't quite understand.  He wonders if maybe he shouldn't have asked, but it's been bothering him for weeks and besides, it's too late now.  

"I rather like nargles did you know?"

"Er....yes."  He doesn't quite follow but he's sure she has a point.

"Most people think it's all a lot of nonsense.  I do know what people say about me you know, believing in things other people don't see.  But ....oh don't look worried it's alright, Draco.  I don't mind when people don't like me.  Anyways as I was saying, I quite like believing in things other people don't.  They need someone to believe in them too."

"Are you talking about me or the nargles?"

Luna just laughs, looking amused.  "It's a bit the same either way isn't it?"  And then she's leaning in towards Draco looking a bit more serious than he's used to.  "You have a good heart.  You're just sorta prickly on the outside.  But it's alright, I rather like things that aren't what they seem.  They make life more interesting."

Draco is pretty sure there's a compliment in there somewhere and he finds himself smiling despite having just been called prickly. 

"I like you too, Luna."

"Oh, it's such fun to have friends!" Luna says happily, taking a single flower out of her own hair and sliding it into Draco's.  He doesn't stop her.

When he looks up Potter is watching them curiously, and for no other reason than because he can, he finds himself smiling at him.

Potter blinks a few times before looking over his shoulder.  When he's sure there's no one else there he turns back around, dropping his face to the table to stare at his half-eaten breakfast, but Draco swears he can see the beginnings of a smile.

 

***~*~*~***

 

Draco doesn't even mean to do it the first time.  He is just minding his own business browsing Honeyduke's selection of specialty chocolates on a rather crowded Hogsmede weekend at the beginning of November when someone bumps into him and sends him stumbling face first into a shelf full of Sugar Quills.  He frowns for a moment as he picks the packages of the sickeningly sweet treats up off the floor before depositing them back on the shelf.  There's one package left on the ground, but for some reason when he picks it up he holds onto it instead of putting it back, sliding it on the counter a few minutes later with his own chocolates.  

He tells himself he doesn't know why he is buying them, but the truth is he knows exactly why.

"Oh, Draco, I didn't know you liked Sugar Quills," Luna says in a very chipper voice.  He has no idea where she came from.

"I..um.  That is.."

"Oh of course.  The thing we don't talk about.  What a lovely thing to do.  Not that I'm talking about it mind you."

Draco finds it hard not to smile.  Something about Luna's honesty and kindness makes him less afraid of his own thoughts.

"It's just Sugar Quills," he says with a shrug, not even sure what he's going to do with them.sto

"Mhmm," Luna says, humming as she takes his hand once he's finished paying, walking with him towards the door.  "Did I tell you, I do think I saw a Diricawl on my way here.  It disappeared so fast I can't be sure of course but it did look so much like the photo I showed you at breakfast last week."  And just like that she continues talking all the way back to Hogwarts, leaving Draco free to alternate between listening to her stories and getting lost in his own thoughts.

When he finally gets back to his own room he shoves the bag of sweets into his trunk beneath his favorite jumper as if someone, mainly Weasley, will know all of his deepest darkest secrets if they discover the offending package.  The bag stays hidden there for exactly nine days before Draco finally gets the nerve to slip it into his book bag on his way to his Transfiguration lesson.  He gets to class exceptionally early that day, pulling the Sugar Quills out and leaving them at Potter's workspace as if it means nothing.

"It's just sweets.  It doesn't mean anything," he mutters to himself, carefully setting up his quill and ink while he watches his classmates filter into the room.  Luna is wrong he thinks, he is too a good liar, its just that he's only good at lying to himself.

Potter is late to class as usual, dropping down into his chair in a flurry, practically dumping his own bag out as he rummages around for a quill and parchment.  Draco tries and fails to not stare as Potter notices the Sugar Quills, reaching out slowly to lift the package up and turn it over in his hand.  He looks a little suspicious which Draco should've anticipated but he also thinks he notes some happy curiosity.

Draco ducks his head down quickly as the other boy glances around the classroom but since no one else is paying him any attention or seems to notice him he turns back to his own space, starting in on the assignment on the board.  When Draco finally gets the nerve to look over again Potter has one of the Sugar Quills between his lips already, darting his tongue out to taste the sweetness, a soft smile on his face.

Draco has never particularly liked Sugar Quills, but he decides that they are definitely one of his new favorite treats.

 

***~*~*~***

 

Draco had only meant it to be a one-time thing.  He'd seen the innocent looking sweets, had held them in his hands and had thought of Potter.  

It was just a silly little thing he hadn't been able to stop himself from doing.  Except making Potter smile had been exhilarating, addicting even, and Draco finds that he wants to see the other boy smile more.  Potter doesn't smile enough, at least not like he used to, and Draco thinks after everything he's been through the least he deserves is a few small smiles over silly things like Sugar Quills.  And Draco knows that maybe his motivations are a bit selfish too, because Potter's smile is bright and free, and for those few seconds when it spreads across his face it feels like the sun shining through the clouds after a storm.  It makes Draco feel like anything in the world is possible. 

It's not that he thinks it really means anything.  He knows they're not friends, not really, even if they aren't enemies anymore either.  He's not sure what they are really, awkwardly friendly perhaps.  He doesn't even expect anything in return and he sure as hell doesn't want anyone to know it's him doing it.  He just wants to make Potter happy, even if it's too small and too fleeting.

So Draco really shouldn't be surprised when he finds himself regularly mail ordering more Sugar Quills than any one person should ever consume, snatching the packages off the table when they're delivered at breakfast and hiding them in his robes until he's in the safety of his own room, opening them up with a smile.

Every week like clockwork Draco arrives early for class, leaving a new pack of the sweets out for Potter.  And every time Potter get that same look on his face, an endearing mix of shock and happiness as if something so insignificant is anything but.

But as the weeks go on Draco finds it becoming increasingly harder and harder to lie to himself, because watching Potter doesn't feel like it doesn't mean anything.  And despite his firm denial on the rare occasion that actually Luna tries to bring it up, he knows that he wants it to mean something.  Even if he isn't entirely sure what that something might be.

 

 

***~*~*~***

 

 

The Sugar Quills are one thing.  As long as it was just that one thing Draco could try to keep up his pretense of ambivalence about the whole thing.

But when he catches himself doing other things like casting a cushioning charm on Potter's broom before he goes flying, or making sure the fire doesn't go out in the middle of the night in the common room just in case Potter has nightmares and takes one of his nightly strolls that he thinks no one knows about, well that's when Draco knows he is well and truly _fucked_ because he isn't even there to see if Potter notices, or to see if he smiles.  He is doing it just to make the other boy happy, to make his life better.  He can't even pretend there are any selfish motivations left because he knows its just for him.

And then to make it even more confusing, on the first Friday of December Potter sits beside him in the common room and asks for help with his Potions essay.  Draco spends the entire night feeling as if he might explode at any moment, positive Potter knows it's been Draco doing random nice things or leaving him sweets, and he's just waiting for his moment to catch Draco and make a fool of him.  But when Potter turns to him, a sleepy smile on his face a look of softness in his eyes he knows its ridiculous because Potter wouldn't do that, not to anyone, and he is positive if he knew it had been Draco acting as a sort of stalker-ish fairy godmother that he would have called him on it by now.  If anyone is worse at lying than Draco it's Potter, whose own face betrays everything if you know what to look for.

After that first night, it becomes a bit of a thing, Potter sitting near him in the common room to study.  Sometimes he asks for help, and sometimes he sits and does his work quietly.  After that its only a few days before Potter seems to inch his way closer and closer to Draco at mealtimes until he's sitting directly across from him and Luna.   

He sees Granger and Weasley watching them as if they both know something he and Potter do not.  Perhaps he's not the only one who was watching without seeing.

 

 

***~*~*~***

 

"You love him," Luna says matter of factly, exactly one week before Christmas, almost as if she is merely commenting on the weather and not on something that makes Draco feel as if the earth might well and truly swallow him up whole.

Draco nearly drops his cup of tea at her words, spilling a bit of it down the front of his robe and cursing under his breath.

"What on earth are you talking about?  And keep your voice down....please," he all but hisses.

"Why else would you be doing it?"

"Doing what exactly?"

"Well, _everything_ of course.  The new scarf he got yesterday was from you, wasn't it?  And the mittens the day before.  And he told me someone has been replacing the cushioning charm on his firebolt every time it wears off.  He also said Dobby told him someone asked the house elves to serve Treacle Tart for dessert all week although he seemed quite put out that Dobby wouldn't tell him who had asked."

Draco can feel his cheeks going red and he lifts his cup to his face as if he might be able to hide behind it.  "He didn't have a warm enough scarf for all the time he spends outside, and besides his mittens were atrocious there was a hole in them for goodness sake.  Besides lots of people like Treacle Tart perhaps it was for the benefit of the entire student population."

"And you noticed what he wanted and need and did something about it," Luna says kindly, in the way only she can, as if something is an indisputable fact but without an ounce of aggressiveness or accusation. 

"Obviously."

"I didn't realize you were so romantic, Draco.  It's sweet."

"I am not romantic.  I'm...moody, and prickly!  I'm not sweet."

Luna laughs, though Draco doesn't feel offended even if she is laughing at him.  "You're not as prickly as you once were you know.  It's okay to change, it doesn't mean who were before was a lie, it just means sometimes we become something new.  It's rather hopeful and exciting I think, to become who you were meant to be."

Draco has absolutely no idea what to say to that so he just drinks more tea.  Luna doesn't seem bothered by his lack of response and goes back to the strange hat she seems to be knitting instead of finishing her meal.

But when Potter finally comes down for breakfast, shooting a quick smile at Draco before digging into his food all he can think is _fuck_.  When exactly did he fall in love with Harry Potter and what is he going to do about?

What Draco plans on doing turns out to be nothing.  Absolutely nothing, because he is far too terrified of messing up whatever friendship he and Potter seem to have developed.  And even more so he can't bare the idea of ever hurting Potter, of doing a single thing that might take away his happiness.  He's pretty sure he's done enough of that to last himself a lifetime, and the idea of doing it even one more time feels like it might break him beyond repair.   

Draco isn't stupid, he knows there is no way he can keep this up the rest of his life and if someone is going to end up disappointing Potter or breaking his heart it won't be him.

 

***~*~*~***

 

Christmas comes and goes in a bit of blur.  Potter leaves Hogwarts to spend the holidays with the Weasley's, shoving his hands in his pockets looking hopeful but unsure as he asks if maybe Draco will write to him while he's gone.  Draco cannot imagine why but he says yes, and Potter leaves with one of the brightest smiles Draco has ever seen.

When Potter leaves Draco writes, and writes until his hand feels like it might fall off.  He tells Potter of the way he feels when he smiles, the way he feels drawn to him like the moon to the earth constantly pulling each close but never close enough.  He tells him about the random things he's been doing for him, and the way he can't pass a pack of Sugar Quills without buying it for him, and mostly about his fears; about being afraid of not being enough or hurting him and why he isn't sure he will ever be brave enough to tell him the truth.

His owl hoots at him impatiently as Draco rolls the parchment up, sliding it into his trunk instead of sending it.

The holidays pass and Draco writes to Harry daily, but he does not send it.  Instead, they pile up in the corner of his trunk, like the guilt in his heart.

Potter sends him a note halfway through the break. He talks about inconsequential things but he sounds lonely as if searching out Draco for something Draco doesn't know if he can give.

Something about being anonymous had made him feel free to share a part of himself with the other boy, but the idea of talking to Potter, of sending him a Christmas gift as himself proves to be more than Draco can bare.  So he does nothing instead.

It's the day before Potter is meant to return from break, and Draco sits upon his bed surrounded by scrolls and Sugar Quills, too scared to send either, when Potter comes barging into his room looking determined.  His hair still has flakes of snow in it, his cheeks looked dry and red, and he looks nervous.  Draco nearly falls off his bed in shock, scrambling to hide the evidence but its too late because Potter is already striding across the room.  Draco expects him to pick them up and examine them, to question Draco's motives or to be upset at his concealment.

What he isn't expecting is for Potter's ice cold hands to slide across his cheeks tenderly as if he might break, knocking the letters and sweets to the ground as he climbs onto Draco's bed, his thumb brushing across Draco's lips before leaning down to kiss him.  It's chaste and all too fleeting, his lips are chapped and cold, but Draco has never felt so warm in all his life.

"Potter-" but the other boy silences him with another kiss, more insistent and demanding this time, almost desperate.

"Thank you," Potter whispers, pulling back and resting his forehead against Draco's.  

"What for?"  Draco questions, almost afraid to break the moment but needing to know.

"For giving me something and asking nothing in return, for being not only what I wanted but what I needed.  For....loving me when I forgot how to love myself."

Draco feels as if the air has been sucked out of his lungs; he cannot speak and he cannot breathe and so he does the only thing he can, he kisses Potter as if it were the most important thing he will ever do, as if Potter is the most important thing he's ever known.  He gives him his truth in the only way he knows how, not in words but in actions.

"Those are a lot of big words, Potter," Draco finally whispers when he pulls out of the kiss, unable to hide the fondness in his voice as he brushes a stray hair out of Potter's eyes.

"Yeah well...I might have spent a day or two...or all break...talking to Hermione."

Then Potter is kissing him again, and he tastes like peppermint tea and chocolate, and he smells like fresh air and sunshine; it is in that moment that Draco realizes he wasn't only holding back because he was scared of hurting Potter, he was scared the other boy might hurt him.  Except this doesn't feel like being broken, it feels like being set free.

It feels like love.


End file.
